Under the Stars
by Lyons
Summary: Tweek and Craig both have some issues to work out. After Craig stopped talking to Tweek in the early years of middle school, Tweek has become a anxiety riddled recluse while Craigs' anger continues to grow; the two are forced to join together as partners in group therapy to help Tweek overcome his fears and to calm Craig down so he doesn't feel like brutally beating up everyone.
1. Chapter 1

The weather in South Park can only be described as the second most lonesome and depressive constant that the small town owns, the first being the rest of the town as a whole being. South Park had a knack for sucking in poor souls who hoped to start a nice, normal family, a normal life; ending up as anything but. Once you were here, however, there was no leaving. You were stuck here. The children who were born here had grown in time with the grass, and as time had grown on, the weeds had grown in and trapped any form of a blossoming youth. Some had dealt with it better than others, and it was uncertain if this was just a normal teen thought. A fear that everything was for nothing and that the world beyond South Park was just too much bigger, too real compared to how their hometown was. It was like being trapped in a bubble, almost, safe from the outside and contained. Always the same.

Craig Tucker, a student in his final year of high school, often thought about this. Often wondered the reality of the world around them, it seemed too faux. He thought about it when he was lying on the roof of his house, cupping his guinea pig and staring at the night sky as the chill threatened to freeze him alive. He thought about it when he sat inside on dreary days when the sleet and rain just wouldn't stop, when he was strumming absentmindedly on his acoustic guitar and staring out the window, imagining worlds better than the one he was in. But mostly, he thought of it when school had started up again and he had nothing else to think about. When he was contained from the early hours of the morning to the wee hours of the afternoon. What was to happen when he graduated? Nothing. Nothing would change; it would always be the same.

Craig was a known face in the disciplinary office, Mr. Mackey droning on and on from his violent outbursts from when he'd shout obscenities, throwing wicked blows towards anyone with a judging eye, even at those who didn't. Sometimes he just needed a fight, needed something to do to remember that he was alive in a world of real people. That and it was great anger management, as far as he was concerned. He always had such a short fuse.

"Craig, we can't keep meeting like this. If you continue to cause many more disturbances, you will be punished further than just suspensions and detentions, the school may decide to expel you if this behavior doesn't stop." Mr. Mackey added a long and drawn out, 'mmmkay', for good measure.

Craig merely responded with the flip of his finger, gaining a sigh from the counselor. "I'm going to sign you up for our group therapy sessions that meet Mondays and Wednesdays. Maybe this will help work out your anger management and it will serve better than sitting after school in the library." Mr. Mackey pulled out a pamphlet with a cheesy group of white people laughing on the front, all holding hands in a circle in attempts to show the unity of group therapy. He snorted, shoving it carelessly in his back pocket as he headed out.

"These meetings are not optional, you will be taken out during your third and sixth period classes on Monday and Thursday. Missing too many of the meetings will end in expulsion for people in your shoes, Mr. Tucker." The rest of the rant fell on the fake wood of the door, heading back to class and thinking of how nice it would be to get a smoke during lunch. Maybe before. He'd have to think this over a bit more.

The first meeting was the following day, Thursday during his seventh class- English literature. He did not want to go to these meetings, but he imagined that no one would want to. Who would want to be in a crowded room of your peers, letting them skin you with their eyes and the teacher expecting it to have good results? Teachers were stupid; they really did not seem to understand. Tweek, in his third year of high school, battled many great anxieties and troubles that had plagued him since his elementary years. The Doctors' said it would be something he'd grow out of. Things would get better. Instead, things had gotten worse. Tweek could not bare to talk in class, and at this point most of the class would have thought he was incapable of saying anything other than one of his awkward verbal tics. This was true. He tried to shut himself down to the corners of his mind, to control every hasty jitter and each unintentional grunt of discomfort.

The bullies had grown to enjoy him, they liked to poke and prod whenever the teachers weren't watching or when the administrators were more preoccupied with other things. They lived to humiliate him, to draw attention to the areas he found the most embarrassing and then blame any following outburst on his 'freakiness'. As far as they could see, they had done nothing wrong. Movies had taught them that it had to be someone, and so it was them and him. And any other kid with any insecurity that was obvious. They teased- though really, tease is too gentle of a word for what they did- that he was gay, stupid, distorted, that no one would like him. By the time first bell rang, he was ready to shrink in to his locker for security.

This had started in fifth grade and snowballed through middle school, but by junior year most of them were done except for when they had a particularly bad morning. Nonetheless, Tweek was already tattered from their abuse. His shoulders were hunched and his eyeline never raised from his shoes or a book, every morning he would wake up and do his best to avoid mirrors- anything reflective, really, to not be reminded of how he looked. Of how he could not tame the beast that was his hair, how he had shadows that kissed under his eyes to make up for the lack of sleep- how hideous it was and how he wished he could let his body relax to where they would disappear. Not to mention, all of the coffee had since stunted his growth and the Doctor had said it was highly unlikely he'd grow any more. He was stuck. Stuck in South Park, stuck in his parents coffee shop on the weekends, stuck in a war zone that was supposed to better him for the future, and more importantly, stuck inside.

Luckily, early in to their junior year it had gradually lessened. He had stopped squeaking and yelling for anyone to help him, he no longer cared. He would be yanked around by filthy hands and his eyes would instantly go dead, his mind in distant lands while his body had taken the torture. A broken toy is no fun, and they had started to move on. Tweek couldn't move on, though. He was always expecting, always waiting. So he remained quiet and jittering, murmuring things under his breath and sometimes squeaking, going from home to school to home again, his part time job the only other place he would dare go.

Back to present, he was now faced with an unfamiliar door in an unfamiliar hallway that he thought was no longer being used. His breathing stopped as his throat closed, hand shaking and hovering over top of the handle. He didn't know who would be in there, and he was tired of being made fun of and being forced to talk. He contemplated this, heart rate intensify and slinking down next to the door. Hands knotted themselves in his locks, eyes tightly shut and shoulders heaving. He couldn't do this, and he didn't want to. He raised his face from his knees, glancing at red converses and dark jeans, aware of him the moment his shadow didn't move from above him.

"Uh, are you waiting to go in, or…" He voice was nasally and deep, and he could hear the awkwardness of it all. His old friend Craig, well not anymore. They hadn't spoken since elementary after he became known as a social pariah. Tweeks' tics had been cool until they didn't stop. Then they were embarrassing, he was embarrassing. Tweek squeaked involuntarily and quickly pushed himself up to his feet, yanking open the door and muttering fast past apologies for holding him up as it slammed against the wall. Those within the room noticeably quieted at the commotion. Shit. This was already not going well.


	2. Chapter 2

The rooms' center was clear, all of the desks pushed up to the wall except for a half circle of chairs pointing towards a larger chair, presumably for the counselor. Craig was able to scan the group and move at the same time whereas Tweek was virtually frozen with his hands pulling at his shirt until Mr. Mackey cleared his throat and gestured for him to sit in any of these fine, single chairs. With stiff legs and slumped shoulders he took long strides to the closest vacant seat, stuck between a few of the goth kids. His jumpy antics had returned full on, hands covering his mouth and staring at his lap: trying to remember his happy place. It took so little for him to feel like this.

"Mmmkay, our last members have arrived. I will first introduce myself. I am Mr. Mackey and I will be in charge of group counseling for this year. Here in group therapy you'll work in pairs pre-designed based on your social and mental short comings in order to work towards a better you." He paused to loosen his tie, clearing his throat and crossing his legs at the ankle. "But first we'll go in order and you all can introduce yourselves." He pointed to Henrietta who was sitting on the end to start. What followed next was the most miserable onslaught of speech to fall on any ears. She started off with her name but when asked about her problems it went straight in to an autobiographical novel she seemed to have memorized on cue. As if she was just waiting for the opportunity.

"…And that was when my father divorced my crazy hack of a mom and left me here in South Park while he runs around in California with sun bleached 20 year old bimbos." She let out a puff of air from her lips, as if smoking an imaginary cigarette to calm down, brushing back her long black bangs.

"Well that was very interesting, Henrietta, how about for times' sake we just uh, get in the pairs I assigned to you and instead talk to them. Once you get in pairs, discuss why you're here. Then you should all choose an after school activity like a sport or club to join to help you both work out your problems together." He stood and passed around some pamphlets that included talking topics and a list of activities to do. "Alright, Henrietta you'll be with Georgie, Ethan will be with David, and Tweek will be with Craig." He sat back with his clipboard to jot down notes on how the meeting was going so far.

The air squeezed out of Tweek, hastily twirling his fingers in his hair and pulling the locks unhappily. Neither Craig nor Tweek moved, instead just sitting there until it looked like Mr. Mackey was about to come up and talk to Craig, in which Craig immediately switched seats closer to Tweek. Tweek was rambling something softly under his breath, Craig going unnoticed.

Craig coughed, "Alright, soooo, uh, this group thing…." He started, skimming the front of the booklet and flipping it open to the first page to avoid unnecessary eye contact.

"I guess we should look in to activities or something, right?" Craig asked, Tweek sucking in a deep breath and nodding. He shakily removed his hands from his head, fingers fumbling with the crisp glossy paper; unable to open it and giving in. Craig watched in a dulled sense of pity, one where he sort of felt bad but not really since he also did not care. At all. So instead he decided to look back at the list. Picking the first one his eyes went to.

"How about wrestling?" Tweek grunted in response and nodded all too fast. With that, Craig slipped the papers away. That was easy, already they had their activity. Rather than sit in silence, he went up to Mr. Mackey, "Tweek and I are doing wrestling. Can I go now?" The counselor looked up from his current cross word puzzle.

"Mmm, have you both shared why you were here and made goals? I haven't heard your partner say anything to you since you went over."

"He did, he's just very quiet." A quick lie that came all too easy, harmless. Mr. Mackey was about to bring up that this was a highly unlikely situation when another voice entered the conversation.

"Nngh, it's true Mr. Mackey, we finished so could we- please- go back to class now." Tweek fidgeted under his stare.

"Well I suppose so. I'll sign you and Mr. Tucker up for wrestling and have the coach make sure you're actually there. Practice has already been going on for a month but I'm sure that the coach won't mind a couple of late wrestlers popping in tomorrow. You're both dismissed to your classes."

Tweek released a sigh of relief; something Craig didn't think was possible. Tweek getting handed a single pass, which made sense, to go back to woodshop. What didn't make sense was that Craig was on there too. Guess they shared classes and he didn't even notice. He made a noise similar to the soft whine of a puppy; he just wanted to get away from him. Not walk him to class! They left on a journey to class, standing on opposite sides of the hall.

"Do you think we could stop by the E-hallway exit? I really need a smoke, and if you go in before me it'll look suspicious." Craig was already getting out his pack, reaching in his pocket for a lighter.

"Uhn, okay," And so they took a detour to the south side of the building and sat outside the back door, Tweek pressed firmly against the building and Craig taking long drags, holding his breath once the smoke was in his mouth before exhaling slowly.

"Forgot to ask, do you want one? You don't look like you smoke, but…"

"No, dude, smoking's gross." Tweek shrunk back against the wall, making a face. "If I wanted to die young I would have just- hn- taken all of my medication at once already." Craig waved his hand as to shoo off the comment.

"It might actually help calm your nerves." He said, flicking off the ashes, "If I wanted to die I would be doing more than just smoking cigarettes. There are worse things."

"That doesn't change the fact that it smells disgusting." Tweek was surprised he could even speak this much to someone he hadn't spoken to in years, especially having gone so long without a conversation from an outside source- not his parents or from the customers at his job. It was almost sort of comfortable, but scary at the same time.

Craig sucked in some smoke, tipping the cigarette away and leaning over. He blew a jet stream of smoke at his companion, letting out loose laughter that shifted in to a spell of heavy coughing. Tweek snorted and shoved his shoulder roughly, coughing and cupping his nose and mouth with his hands.

"You're such an asshole." Something about it was funny, though, and he too started to laugh weakly, grinning behind the safety of his hands. Craig regained control of his hacking, spitting out a pent up loogie and lips barely quirking to a smile. He finished his cig and stomped on the stub to make sure it was out, holding the door open for him.

"After you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Reviews would be great as it would help me improve and know if what i'm doing is right or not? uvu]]**

Tweek and Craig didn't speak after that, there was no reason to. Craig had his friends and Tweek preferred to stay as far from his peers as possible. If it could talk, he wanted nothing to do with it, too much stress attached to it. He'd rather sit in the front where no one would even try to. The final bell rang, kids leaving either for sports or to start off their weekend school free. Which is what he would be doing if it weren't for wrestling practice. He gripped the straps of his backpack, nearly wheezing from the nerves. He'd have to touch people, people would be touching him, and ugh even worse was… there would be sweat. He shuddered and twitched more aggressively the closer he got, once the stench of the locker room hit his nostrils. Why did guys smell so disgusting? He could almost bet his entire supply of coffee that the girls' locker rooms were not this disgusting. Not by a longshot.

He pressed himself against the wall and monorailed it to the bathroom stalls, locking it and changing hurriedly only to find out his shirt was on inside out. This caused him to bang against the plastic green dividers during the struggle until he was victorious, slipping out of the stall with his bag and dropping it against a section of vacant lockers. He didn't keep many valuables with him and it weighed about three quarters of his weight, so he was without fear that someone would actually steal it. He adjusted his navy blue basketball shorts, retying the knot a tad tighter and making sure the cuffs of his t-shirt weren't flipped up before bracing himself for the brightly lit gym, where people's sneakers were squeaking against the shiny floor and practice mats were being set out. His eyes flickered around, recognizing a few faces but not enough to where the urging nausea in his stomach would leave him be. The more urgent matter at hand was that Craig was not there, each passing second causing him to lose control over his ticking habits of twitching violently. What if Craig would not be coming, and now that he was here he couldn't leave? Trapped forever in an uncomfortable situation of forced bodily contact.

He watched as others started to stretch. Practice was beginning, and he had been let down once again, made a fool of. He should have figured it out. He solemnly stared at the Velcro of his shoes, hesitantly sitting on the floor and going in to a butterfly stretch. He leaned forward until his hair was near brushing against the floor, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. He'd need to get as calm as possible if he were to make it through the next few hours. His shoulders sagged in a relaxing state, until the scuffle of shoes stopped beside him. He tensed, whipping his head up.

"You're, hmngh, late." He announced curtly, teeth pulling at his chapped lips.

"I had something to do." Craig sighed, staring down at him from half lidded eyes. The quietness returned, not yet a comfortable and easing one. "Did I miss very much?" He asked to keep the small talk going, the answer not mattering as much as the vanishing of silence did. He decided to mimic Tweeks' stretches.

"No, not yet." And that was it, and this time when the quiet came Craig focused on stretches to occupy his mind and push out the clumsiness of their social skills. The roar of a whistle that came next made Tweek scream, quickly hiding his mouth and ducking in between his shoulders.

"Okay kids, go get the sparring gear on and we'll do a few practice rounds or whatever." The coach shrugged, teens moseying over to the equipment rack.

"I'll get us the equipment if you get us a mat." Craig said, dismissing without giving a chance for argument. He was going to try and prolong this as much as he could. He had been in a fight with Tweek when they were younger, and practically the same size. He had done good back then, they were probably more evenly matched, but now during the years of puberty he was almost betting that a fly could pin Tweek down. He hadn't really grown from middleschool and he remained particularly thin- the chubbiness from elementary school relocating itself in its once new found height. Craig was still growing though, already above average in height and while he wasn't overweight he was definitely average. Tweek found them a nice mat, and Craig took his time going over, handing him one of the helmets. He figured his own out with no issues, Tweek on the other hand happened to have a lot of them. Ninety nine to be exact, and all of them were because of the headgear.

"Do you… maybe want me to…" Craig furrowed his eyebrows, hoping that things wouldn't always be this uneasy. During the end of their pre-class smoking experience he appeared to have loosened up a bit. Now it was like he was standing on a mouse trap that was about to snap at any second.

"Ugh, yeah. Please." Tweek tip toed over and let Craig take the lead, quivering as his messy blonde locks were pushed back to fit correctly, noting the care that was taken so that way none of his hair would be pinched in the clips. How thoughtful. Once that was all set in place, he took a few steps back. It was almost comical how much he vibrated, it wouldn't be long before he was shaking so hard that he'd be virtually unseeable from the naked eye. Craig glanced around to see how these things started, but he supposed it didn't really matter since they weren't doing this for serious. It was only because of that group therapy bs. Without speaking they both moved to their edges of the mat respectively, "Sh-ould we jus-t start no-w?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Craig copied a stance he saw someone else doing, Tweek rather doing something similar but where Craigs' was weak and lazy, his was a tad stronger. They stood there for a few minutes, until the coach came over, thankfully.

"Tweek Tweak and Craig Tucker, Mr. Mackey has sent you here for his… sessions… So I'll show ya the basics. First, opening position is a bit like this." He went in to a squat. "And then ya both charge. Its' free game from there, I don't care whatcha do. Just know after three seconds on the ground yer out." Coach went on to the next mat.

Tweek truly took the advice to heart, Craig not so much. Craig, after much reluctance, counted down from three and went in, planning on gently pushing him on to the ground or maybe just allowing him to struggle a bit before falling on to the ground in defeat. The response to him going for his waist, though, had an unanticipated outcome. Tweek shrieked in terror, grabbing Craig roughly and practically flipping him on the ground, hands holding his shoulders in place, muttering apologies.

"O-one- t-two th-th-threee." And with that he relented, jumping off and struggling to get on his feet. He was breathing heavy in the freaked sort of way, not in the out of breath and exhausted sense. His partner laid there, stunned.

"Wow. Um, okay." Without much more they reset positions, the process being a bit different each time. However the outcome was always the same, Tweek being the victor. Craig just thought it was his body getting back at him for all those nights spent on the couch gaming and pigging out. By the tenth round, both were out of breath and slicked in body sweat.

"I, should have told you, that I take classes sometimes- o-r I used to." He wheezed, hunched over with his hands on his knees.

"Oh, that would make sense. Would you like to maybe take a break and get a drink or something…" Craig panted and fanned himself.

"M-Mkay." They stepped out of the gym, the air a lot cooler than in there, taking turns at the fountain. Tweek found himself sitting back against the wall, this time not in panic.

"Do you feel any… less anxious?" Craig asked, running a hand through his soaked hair. Gross.

"I guess so." He shrugged, "Are you any less angry?" This made him snort and chuckle, Tweek shrinking slightly but forcing himself to be bold. "That's the reason why you're-ngh- here, right? Because you're always in fights and cussing people out an-d flipping them off." He reasoned, eyes snapping open when he was yanked to his feet with his head knocking against the wall.

"I don't have anger issues." Craig stated bluntly. Tweek coughed; the tremors back.

"This s-sit-ut-fuck-situation would s-say otherwise." He wasn't sure where this odd bit of bravery came from, but immediately he regretted it- not fast enough, however, a fist meeting his cheek. He shut his eyes, taking the hits; he was used to being a punching bag. Something inside of him broke, only in an entirely new way. Usually when he broke he shut down, but this time he was cut up with anger. He was tired of everything. Craig stopped talking to him because of some dumb comments rather than sticking around like a true friend, most of everyone who met him found him to be particularly useless and even more considered him to be weak and worthless. Well he wasn't.

Tweek released a sort of primal wail, shoving Craig off with force mostly driven by passion, slamming him against the tile and letting loose. Unlike Craig he was not confined to straight punches, no, Tweek also scratched and slapped and did every type thing he could think of.

"Y-ou think- you- have- the- right- to- hit- HN- ME-? You- left- ME- Craig- when- every-one- was- saying I- was- HHH- CRAZY- do- you- think- you're- the- only- one- who- hurts-!" He spit, sitting on his chest and trapping Craig beneath him. "Well- you're- not- but- your head is so far up you- ASS- that you don't even- NOTICE. When people are trying to- be nice- to you- at least you- HAVE- friends- at least you aren't- scared- of getting jumped- or- made fun of- when you go out-! I- can't- even- leave- the- house- without- people- ALWAYS- STARING-! And- thinking- because- I don't- fight back I'm- WEAK- well I'm- NOT!" His hits slowed down, "You- aren't- forced- to- be- alone- you- make- yourself that way- no- one- even- wants to hang out- with a- freak…"

Tweeks' shoulders heaved, his hands falling limply now on Craigs' face. They were both pretty tattered at this point, Craig more so than he, and he was falling down from his adrenaline reached high, the guilt settling in. No, he thought over, he shouldn't feel bad because Craig had started it. Craig was the one who started it, and it was merely self-defense… With some extra. Tweek stood, heading towards the gym with the intent on leaving after he got his things. He had hit a new emotional low where he did not care for the consequences of leaving without full time served for that ridiculous group therapy, nor that he lived too far away from the school for it to be a couple minute walk. He slipped in to the locker room, picking up his book bag and slinging it over his shoulders, which were sore from being thrown against a wall. The door opened,

"Tweek, are you in here?" He asked, peeking around through swollen eyes. "Uh, do you maybe want a ride home?" Apologizing was not his forte.


	4. Chapter 4

The coloring of the bruises were now settling in, Tweek firmly pressed back against the seat of Craigs' truck and squeezing his school bag to his stomach. His lip had been cracked and his left cheek was now the color of dulled violet. He had gotten off easy, Craig's face was a total mess. There was a slightly crusted dribble of blood from one of his nostrils, both of his eyes shadowed with purple and scratch marks at his neck. The more Tweek looked over, the further the guilt got to him, festering in his stomach and making him feel nauseas.

"I'm, hhh, sorry." He whispered under his breath, squeezing in tighter. Craig just grunted, shrugging it off. They stopped in front of a green two story house and Craig pressing the unlock button, watching his partner struggle against the confines of the seat belt until finally getting free. He hurriedly turned to get out, hand on the handle until Craig pressed the child lock, leaving him to smash his face in to the passenger window.

"D-dick." He muttered, pulling back and rubbing his face.

"Couldn't resist." Craig hit unlock again, this time letting Tweek out. "Hey, what are you doing this weekend?" He called out, Tweek shutting the door and walking around to Craigs' window.

"Nn, well, nothing really. I- might be working Saturday night though, till- nine." His eye twitched a little, "Uh, why, do you wanna do something?" The idea alone made his insides squeamish and his head feel fuzzy.

"Maybe."

There was a moment of tense silence before Tweek made a noise similar to a car letting out a gush of air. "Don't forget to put on ice before your eyes swell shut." He reminded. Craig nodded, letting Tweek shuffle awkwardly in to his home before driving off. What a mess.

Craig got home to the sound of his mother and sister having another famous shout match, sneaking in to the kitchen to fill a baggie of ice cubes before making it up the steps at top speed, shutting the door to his room. His room was thoroughly cleaned and orderly, he had a nice bed that was made so the sheets were correctly tucked in and without wrinkle, his desk was well organized as was the stacks of cds he had set beside it, and his guitar case was leaning upright against the wall. He tossed off his hat, changing in to sweats and admired his wounds in the mirror. Tweek really knew how to inflict the most damage he could on a guy, so why did he never try to fend for himself on a normal basis? He contemplated this while taking out his acoustic and laying down in his bed, closing his eyes and plopping the sack of ice cubes over the lids. He absentmindedly tugged at the strings, letting them vibrate against his fingertips. As much as he didn't want to admit it, this group therapy thing might actually be worth his time. It had gotten him to think in different ways already, though he wasn't sure if he liked that. His mind roamed in to its imagination zone, daydreaming different ideas.

He could always call up Clyde for video games, invite Token over too. He could also try to go to a party, but that all seemed so old. He was craving something new, struck with the idea that he was young. He should be out experiencing things, exploring the uncertain and going wild. His heart even skipped a beat at the thought, but he knew he probably wouldn't do anything out of the ordinary. He was a recluse; he didn't do much other than lay at home and stare at walls while working out new rhythms. Time went on; the ice cubes took to the warmth of his face until it was a pool of water, the orange and red sunlight tinting the water until it left completely. It was replaced with the artificial orange of the street lamps. He sat up, setting his instrument aside and taking the useless ice pack down stairs. Creeping down slowly and making sure the yelling was over. Once the coast was clear, he made it down completely to see they had made up, his parents and sister watching television together. His sister more so on the laptop than anything, but she was there, which was more than he was. He dumped the water in to the sink, tossing out the bag and browsing the cabinet selection for dinner. The instant mac and cheese looked exceptionally good tonight, yes, he would have that. He set it in the microwave, lost in thought again. It was the weekend, he had a truck and he had gas- he could go anywhere. The microwave beeped and he took it out, stirring it with a fork.

That night ended quickly, Saturday morning switching in to Saturday evening followed by the night. Craig waited no sooner to stop his instrumental meddling, packing up slowly, grabbing a drawstring bag filled with two towels and a change of shorts and heading to his truck. He was in no hurry, he wasn't even sure if his plan would work or not, but he had prepped for it the night prior. It would be a long weekend, too, some holiday- jewish perhaps? That left them four days, although now it was more like three. He left a note for his family, explaining the situation. He hopped on in, throwing his bag in the passenger seat and driving towards Harbucks. Contrary to popular belief that Craig felt nothing but anger and apathy, he was actually really nervous, anxious even, shifting in to park and watching a wild haired teen hang up his apron before locking the front door and testing a few times to make sure it was actually locked.

"Tweek!" Said boy jumped, dropping the keys.

"Urgh, Craig, what're you- doing here-" He pulled at his hair, flustered.

"I was bored and I needed something to do." He pressed his lips together in a line for a moment before speaking up again, "I was going to go somewhere and I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming along."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, uh, where and for how long?" Tweek started to make his way over when Craig motioned for him to get in, doing just that.

"Just somewhere fun and new. I promise it won't be anywhere weird, besides after yesterday I know not to test you. You're pretty good at fighting, you know. Also you might want to pack an overnight bag, or two, just in case." Craigs' insides were doing flips, hoping Tweek went along with it. He didn't know him that well, but he figured it would be fun- and it would only be a few days if he did say yes. Tweek was quiet, weighing the idea.

"If you can promise to get me home before school and that, ngh, this isn't a trick, then yeah. I guess… I'll go…" He trembled. Craig could still smell the coffee stench wafting off of him, pulling up to his house.

"Alright, I'll give you ten minutes. Maybe pack a bathing suit, just in case." He unlocked the doors, Tweek darting out and disappearing inside the house.

Tweek was a mess, hurriedly shoving clothes and all the other necessities in to a sleepover bag, deciding to refill his thermos with some coffee. There was always a pot brewing at the Tweak household. He too wrote a scratchy note, saying he'd be staying with Craig and he'd be home before school. They wouldn't really care; they'd probably be rejoicing that he was out with a friend. With two minutes to spare, he clambered in to Craigs' car, heaving and readjusting the seat belt. Once that was settled he took an exceptionally shaky drink of coffee and attempted to relax while Craig shifted gears.

What was once nine in the afternoon became midnight, they were still on the road. A highway, actually. Tweek had noted the time but paid no mind until the sun started to greet them. Then he was a little bit freaked out.

"Ngh, oh god, where are we going, Craig? Where are you taking meeeee." He had finished his coffee supply, including the backup cup and was now folded in half, knotting his fingers in his hair and pulling them.

"I thought we'd go to the beach, or something." He shrugged.

"But South Park doesn't have a beach. Colorado doesn't have a beach." He started to hyperventilate. "Where are we going?" He began to make moaning and groaning sounds, rocking.

"Tweek- relax- we're just going to go to a beach, this is going to sound really stupid," He paused, "But it's only about fourteen or fifteen hours to California and besides we're almost there. Well halfway. It'd be stupid- well more stupid- to turn around now, so please don't freak out."

"CraigI'veneverbeentoCaliforniaI'veneverbeenoutoft hisstatewhywouldyoudothatohJESUSwhatifsomethingbad happenswherewillwestayohGOD." Tweek was dragging his stubby finger nails against his arms, head in between his legs. Taking deep breaths.

"Yeah, but we can just stay in my truck and it'll only be for the weekend. It'll be fine." Craig tried to think of things he could say to lessen the blow. Never been out of South Park? That must've sucked. "Just think you'll get to see your first beach or something. And uh, the ocean. You haven't seen the ocean right?"

Tweek stopped his mumblings, lifting his head to shake it no.

"Okay, great, you'll see the ocean for the first time. It'll be fun." Craig tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Also, it's a good time to sleep now. If you want to. Do you even sleep?"

"I… don't really sleep too well." Craig merely nodded.

"I have a cd case if you feel like flipping through and picking something. It's on the side pocket thing." He made a gesture, thoroughly distracting Tweek with the task. Good. They drove for a while in silence, stopping at a McDonalds to pick up some coffee for both Tweek and himself, getting an extra-large Iced Tea as well. Those things were loaded with sugar and always made him feel jumpy and awake, which was great when Tweek started to doze off with his cheek pressed to the window as to not tempt him. Just a few more hours and they would be there.


	5. Chapter 5

Tweek moved and made a lot of noise in his sleep. If he weren't buckled in he would have likely been rolling everywhere. Thankfully they were. Time had started to run together for Craig, the sun now perched high in the sky and his eyes showing signs of sleeplessness that he was used to seeing on others. If anything he slept too much. He got off the interstate and it wasn't very far off before they made it to a public beach at around ten thirty in the morning, sliding in to park and turning off the engine. He sat back, letting out a heavy sigh, picking up the half empty pack of cigarettes and debating before putting them away. He didn't mind driving but that was almost too much- he didn't know if he wanted to get up and move around or sleep... He checked Tweek, surprised he was still resting and further amused that he was curled tight in a ball and actually comfortable. Didn't that hurt his neck? Well, they were here now. Time to wake up. He cleared his throat,

"Tweek, we're here." And just like that he snapped up, hair seeming a bit more wild than normal. He squinted until he adjusted to the light, alarmed by how bright everything was. It was even hotter over here. The groaning returned and he folded himself back in half, arms over his head protectively.

"I don't know why I let you take me here nnnngh," He hated being new places with people he didn't know. "What if I get sunburn? What if I die of heat exhaustion? What if there are sharks in the water and- hhhhnnnnnnng." Everyone would be watching him. A shark could just snap him in half; he could even fry himself to death.

"There are sharks everywhere, Tweek. And not everyone gets bitten. More people die in car crashes than by a shark- and we've been in a car for about fifteen hours, no crashes or anything. And I brought sunblock." It was hotter here, thankfully not as humid as the east coast. He took off his sweat shirt, thankful for short sleeves. And grabbing his draw string bag from earlier. "Grab your swim suit and we'll get changed over there- unless you don't mind getting soaked in those clothes." Tweek reluctantly did so, clutching his green tartan swim trunks but not willing himself to move. Craig sighed, getting out and opening the door for him-offering a hand to avoid any nervous spills on to the asphalt. He was not going to be leaving as soon as they got here over some scrapes.

Tweek stayed a tad closer than usual on their way to the changing stalls, probably because Craig was the only constant here with him at this time, the only other part of South Park remaining with him. He was ushered to the nearest changing stall, giving it a weary glance over.

"Don't worry I'll stay outside so no one breaks in…" Craig murmured, already able to tell where his frantic mind was going. Tweek pulled the curtain, changing hurriedly in to a black spare shirt he had brought that was surprisingly faded with a bands logo on the front. It was different then his normal button up, he usually saved it for indoor occasions like lazy weekends and sleeping. He scrunched up his clothes, bringing them to Craig who took them and shoved them in to the bag before taking his turn in the changing stall, coming out roughly the same. They walked silently to the beach, Tweek a half step behind so he could do appropriate following. It reminded Craig of a ghost. Craig stopped to take off his slip ons, stepping in to the plush sand. Tweek just made a face.

"You don't wear socks?" He furrowed his eyebrows. That was pretty gross. "But don't your feet smell or get sweaty?" He kept his shoes on, not caring for the sinking feeling or wanting to feel the dirty sand on his toes. Now that he thought about it, the ocean could be filled with millions of disgusting things such as fish sperm, human sperm, waste, body sweat, anything.

"Nah, it's easier this way. You should probably take yours off too, unless you want sand in your shoes." Once they were a reasonable distance from the waves, Craig dropped the bag and sat. Tweek hovering beside him and twitching.

"There could be all kinds of germs on this sand. It is California…"

"Yeah but there's probably the same amount of germs in the air, and besides we've already come this far." Craig took out a cigarette and lit it, finding this to be the perfect scenery for a smoke. Oddly enough, Tweek could see a slight amount of sense in it. Plus being so far from his home left him feeling… strange. Like he could do anything. Just like Craig had been trying to do when he planned this stupid trip, but he wasn't about to indulge that thought completely. He supposed taking off his shoes couldn't cause much harm, though. It wasn't a completely reckless idea. He worked to untie the triple knotted laces, slipping his socks in to the shoes and letting his toes touch the warm sand. He wiggled them slowly, eyebrows furrowed and in focus. Not bad. He lowered his fingers, letting the sand sink through the spaces between his fingers. It was almost therapeutic, like rubbing your hand against an unevenly textured wall. Because of this Tweek was in a momentary trance of picking up sand and letting it drip down, Craig rubbing the butt of his cigarette in to the sand and bringing him out of it.

"You should probably stop smoking, hn." Tweek stated, not looking away from his hands.

"You aren't going to give me some sort of speech about how my life is worth something and that I have so much to look forward to, right? Because I've already-"

"That would- imply- that I liked you enough for you to not smoke yourself to death- I just don't want my ride home to become incapable. You can start smoking when we get and safe-." He interrupted, giving a quirky grin. Craig was a bit shocked for such snark, before smirking shallowly and nodding. They sat under the sun, Craig pulling out a bottle of sunscreen from the bag, handing it to Tweek who applied it quite liberally, ignoring the few warnings that he gave about melanoma and sun cancer.

"Do you want to, maybe, swim?" The blonde asked, his rising curiosity getting the better of him. Could you feel the salt in oceans? Was it colder than a pool? He watched Craig with quivering eyes, not having the guts to go in alone. If there was a shark he would need someone to sacrifice, same for seaweed monsters and other treacherous things.

Craig groaned, shrugging and getting up. It was the beach; he should have been prepared for this. But for some reason he never put it together that Tweek would actually want to swim. They left their things in a small bundle, tiptoeing nearer to the edge. Craig was the first to touch the water, letting Tweek know that it was safe, who started to inch in. He was feeling particularly brave, going up to the knees. He looked over his shoulder; waving for him to come in, follow. Reluctantly, he did, standing stiffly while Tweek lowered his hands and began to swirl them in the water, staying behind when his friend began to submerge deeper. He hadn't even noticed Craig had stayed behind until the water was up in to his midsection, choosing to float on his back and drifting towards him. It felt pleasant and almost dreamy, not bareass chilly as Stark's pond did.

"Why did you- stay back here?" He twitched awfully this time, slapping a hand over his neck and rubbing it as if to say 'stop that'.

"Just don't really feel like swimming. You can if you want, but I'll stay back here."

"You drove like, sixteen hours, and you aren't even going to swim?" Tweek furrowed his eyebrows. That was just silly. To come all this way and not even partake in such a beautiful experience… Craig shrugged again, seeming a bit uncomfortable and distant with the topic. He hunched down so he'd be closer to his ear level, glancing from side to side as if there may be eaves droppers afoot.

"I'm not the best at swimming." He admitted, "If you want to swim I can just watch from here, it's no big deal." Regardless he took a few more steps deeper, as long as he didn't go too far in he'd be fine, it wasn't like it would be one giant overwhelming drowning experience, and the waves here were pretty tame. More like speed bumps then anything. Tweek decided to keep swimming, making sure he was no more than five feet away from Craig in case of emergency. Floating in this way made him feel like an otter. His usual jitters weren't even as intense, interestingly enough they had ceased completely while he paddled circles around him. Craig snorting. Weirdo. They stayed here for a while, Tweek in the hundreds with the amount of laps he had completed. Eventually Craig got hungry, however, and Tweek realized he hadn't eaten much for about a day. They chose to sharing fries on the boardwalk, wandering around and making idle chit chat. Most of it was small stuff, like Tweek talking about how the weather here was much more desirable than in their hometown, and Craig agreeing. When the sun began to grow weary, they turned around to head towards the truck. By this point, Craig had shoved his chullo back on his head and was growing immensely tired from having not slept. Tweek was nearing the same feeling, only more from the social exhaust of their entire escapade. They met the truck, the two climbing in and Craig grumbling as he was forced to drive a little further south, passing a sign with some corny looking name scrawled on it, something about sun and happy probably.

They were slowly entering a lightly wooded area, a few campfires and flashlights showing numerous people in tents and Vans, presumably camping out. Craig continued to drive around until he saw a free spot, backing in. He grabbed a flashlight from under the seat and hopped out, making sure it was indeed a camping slot and that he had pulled in correctly, lifting up the back of the truck and revealing a mattress covered in floral sheets. A few knit blankets that had been folded earlier had rolled off to the side. He went back around front, nudging Tweek who raised his head, dazed and confused.

"We're here."

"Nnn… Where?" He sat up, rubbing his tired eyes and lifting his back up in to his lap.

"A camp site. I have a mattress in the back if you feel like using it. I could sleep up here unless you wanted to." His voice was flatter than usual, hoping to get right to the point with this. "And if you plan on wearing pajamas I suggest you change in here, there's no changing rooms unlike the beach." He stepped away, letting Tweek decide and hand instinctively going for his lighter before withdrawing. He generally didn't care if someone wanted him to stop smoking, if he wanted to quit he would. But Tweek would likely have a fit, assuming he had any energy left in him, and he wasn't willing to test that. Tweek snuck up behind him, donning purple plaid pajama pants and a band tee that had quite a number of holes in it. He poked Craig in the sides, making him jump and curse. A lazy smile forming, eyelids drooping and surrounded in gray circles. He ran a hand through his knotted hair.

"If you want to share the mattress, I don't mind. Usually, I'd think it was gross, but I'm too sleepy to… care." He yawned between words, stretching. "Besides, it's your truck… When was the last time you cleaned the sheets?"

Craig leaned against the side of the vehicle. "Today- er- yesterday… whatever it was before we left. Go and get comfortable, I guess, I'll come back in a sec." He climbed in the front, checking everything. The gages, windows, double checking for keys, and then shuffling to the back where Tweek was already cocooned in one of the blankets, taking up the tiniest amount of space he could on one side. He pushed himself up, untying his shoes and shimmying out of his pants. Tossing them off to the side of the bed and shutting the back halfway once inside. He laid on his back, grabbing the extra blanket he brought and staring out the small, tinted windows. The skies here were so clear at night. Well, they were in South Park too, but when you were away from the streets it was definitely more noticeable. He rolled on his side, assuming Tweek was asleep and spacing off. After all this time of wanting to dream, of course it was now he was riddled in thought. Wondering why he was here, what he was trying to prove, and why he would choose to go with Tweek. He could have taken Clyde or Token or any of his other friends, but instead he picked a kid who had beaten him terribly in a fight he thought he would win. He wasn't unhappy with it, though. He was happy it was like this. Weird, generally he was apathetic about how things played out, but he was really pleased to be sharing a mattress in the back of a dusty car, hundreds of miles from the things that stressed him out most. When he began to drift off, he became faintly aware that there was a soft, occasional jerk to the bed. Noting he wasn't actually asleep but too far gone to go more in to it. Tweek had been watching the sky with him, apparently.

Been a little sick which is why this took so long ;;;; may end up being a tiny bit before I can get around to the next chapter. Reviews would be wonderful, especially to point out clumsy wording as I have been under the weather. Thanks for reading!


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